The good news is that apparently, I won’t be bothered with a mid-life crisis.

The bad news is is that it’s because I’m skipping mid-life and going straight to the Depends aisle and 10% Sizzler discount on Senior Saturdays.

This morning I woke up a young, vibrant, happy-go-lucky 32.
Then I went to the Optometrist; the thin, flawlessly-skinned-know-it-all-bitch Optometrist.
She told me I have what appears to be the beginning stages of cataracts; aka, anyone know where I can get a tightly rolled perm and some sensible shoes?

I tried to maintain my composure but I may have frightened her when I somewhat erratically shrieked “Are you high?”

She didn’t seem the least bit concerned (about the cataracts; she was quite visibly afraid of me) but then again she’s not the one that’s going to have to learn Braille (does People magazine even come in braille??)

I left her office leaning on my six year old (I have to preserve my strength, at least until my bedazzled cane comes in the mail) wondering how my grandmother would feel about sharing her dentures and bedside commode (hey, a penny in the hand is worth a bushel of toothless birds, and so forth).

that’s the latest around here.
Now excuse me while I go shake my finger and scowl disapprovingly at young people.

Happy Prune Juice and Pizza Friday.

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